Sword
by PokeSpeBanette
Summary: Green has a sword. What he doesn't have, however, is a friend. Red is determined to change that.


Renny: I'm pretty sure the sword Green can use is called the katana? I mean, it's a Japanese sword, Green is seen using something that looks like a sword during training, so it makes sense . . .

Green: For once in your life, you may actually be right.

Renny: Oh shut up, it's not my fault I can't get this fucking wrist ticket off!

Green: Just cut the damn thing off.

Renny: No, I like it too much. I'll probably do it before I go to bed.

Green: And as usual, you disregard everything you said less than three seconds ago . . . Renny doesn't own pokemon.

Renny: On with the show!

 **OOOOOO**

"You own a _sword_!?" Red gasped.

"Katana." Green corrected him. "And put it down, we all know what you're like with pointy things . . ."

Red carefully placed the sword back onto the stand, and stepped back to admire it.

" . . . Where'd you get it from?" he asked eventually. "Did you buy it?"

"It was a gift." Green replied.

"Cool! Who gave it to you-"

"No, you can't ask for one." Green deadpanned.

Red spun around, offended. "I wouldn't!" he exclaimed.

There was silence for several moments.

" . . . Okay, I probably would." Red admitted, slowly turning back around in shame.

"Yeah." Green said.

Green was trying to clean up his bedroom (notice the word 'trying'), and Red had sort of . . . interrupted that, by popping up and deciding to just hang around for a while. Daisy hadn't refused, saying something about how good it was that Green finally had a friend, which kind of made Red wonder- what sort of eleven year old _didn't have any friends_?

Apparently Green.

Somehow, that did not surprise Red at all.

But what did surprise him was the sword- the katana- that was sitting on its stand on top of the chest of drawers.

"Do you know how to use it?" he asked.

"Of course I do." Green scoffed, like it was pointless to ask.

It _wasn't_ pointless to ask, obviously. Red knew plenty of people who had swords and whatever on display, but they had no clue how to use them. Forgive him for assuming this was the same deal.

"Sheesh, no need to get snappy, I was just aski- . . . you _know_ how to _use_ this thing?" Red demanded, spinning around to gape at him.

"Well, yeah. Where do you think I've been for the last five years?" Green shrugged. "Certainly not cooking in a kitchen on a private plane, I can tell you that right now."

" . . . Was that a reference to something?"

"Yes. _Iron Man 2_. Peasant."

"Just because I don't watch movies religiously like you do-"

"Well, I have a grand total of zero friends, so it's not like I can hang around with living people instead." Green said.

Red looked at him.

"What?" Green asked. "It's true."

"Dude." Red said, shocked. "You can use a _sword_! If you told people that, they'd flock to you in seconds!"

"Exactly."

What?

"I don't want to use whatever skills I have as a way to trick people into liking me. Besides, if I go around boasting about how I can use the katana, there's a fifty-fifty chance that people're gonna see it as awesome or arrogant." he explained.

"Since when do you care about what people think about you?" Red frowned.

"Since forever. It's easier to be labelled as 'Professor Oak's quiet grandson' rather than 'Professor Oak's arrogant freak of a grandson'."

"That . . . that's harsh." Red admitted quietly, somewhat horrified.

"Mm."

Green didn't say anything else for the next few minutes, busy sorting through all the random bits of paper scattered on his bedroom floor (was that an 8-bit character drawn ont squared paper? Cool!) and trying to figure out what drawer to put them in.

Red sat down on Green's bed and watched, seeing the boy in front of him in a new light. He glanced at the always-growing collection of books, comics, DVDs, games and TV series that Green owned, seeing _those_ in a new light too.

They were ways for Green to escape from the harsh reality his birth had forced him into. Here, with all of this stuff, he could pretend he wasn't Professor Oak's grandson, he could just be . . . Green. He didn't have to worry about the whole 'no friends' thing, because this stuff here filled the void.

But . . . it would never be enough. Red couldn't really speak, because he was the total opposite of Green- he had loads of friends- but he knew all of this stuff couldn't be a substitute for actual living beings to play with.

Sure, Green more or less said he was fine on his own. Sure, he basically said he liked movies and stuff better than people. But still.

Red was pretty much the only kid in Pallet town- other than Blue- who actually talked to him. Even Red's own mom thought Green was a little . . . _odd_ , to say the least (she'd also said some harsher things, given what Red ranted about).

He wasn't being arrogant or full of himself, but Red was the closest thing to a real friend that Green actually had.

"Hey." he said, just as Green was picking up an _Iron Man_ DVD to put it back with the other two.

Green looked at him.

"How about you show me some stuff with that swo- katana of yours?" Red smiled. "I don't know much about it, and it looks kinda cool . . . maybe you could teach me some stuff?"

"What did I say about you and pointy things?" Green sighed.

"Please?" he begged.

" . . . Fine. We'll go out into the field once I'm done here, I'll give you a full demonstration and I'll teach you- but we're using the _wooden_ katana, not the real thing, okay? And we'll stick to the basics. _Just_ the basics."

Red was half-tempted to demand that Green teach him how to use the real thing, not some silly wooden stick, but then he thought better of it.

He wasn't asking for himself, dammit. This was for Green- even if he didn't know it- and Red was not gonna ruin anything by being selfish or petty.

 **OOOOOO**

Renny: Originally this was gonna be a tiny bit longer, explaining what happened with the katana training and what Red felt during that, but I decided it wasn't really needed.

Green: Oh, thank god for that.

Renny: Shush you. Read and review!


End file.
